A Furcoated Fish 



" I could hit him with an oar," the guide said, 

 doubtfully. 



" Certainly you could," I replied. " I am sur- 

 prised that you have not already done so." 



We were mistaken. Even though its movements 

 were hampered by the line, that mink could swim 

 like a seal; it was impossible to hit it. After some 

 futile attempts we sat and listened to our captive's 

 clicking teeth. It seemed to be whetting them. Un- 

 easily I wondered how long the hook's snell would 

 last. 



Raising my eyes from contemplation of this spec- 

 tacle, I became aware of a woman, far up the terraced 

 hillside, watching us through field-glasses. And sud- 

 denly a thought came to me, a thought which, by com- 

 parison, made my previous uneasiness a mere nothing. 



" Do people ever tame minks ? " I asked. 



" I've been worrying about that for the last five 

 minutes," the guide answered nervously. " That mink 

 was too darned tame! I've seen a lot of mink, and 

 usually you don't see 'em at all. Just a sort of a black 

 flash," he added illuminatively. 



" Gosh ! I hope not. There's only one party lives 

 anywhere near here, but if I'm mixed up with catch- 

 ing anything of hers, I'll never hear the last of it!" 



"Is that her?" I asked ungrammatically, pointing 

 to the female watching us. 



" My soul and body, yes ! " gasped the guide. "And 

 45 



